Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I didn't know what to expect when Nick and I dropped into the ancestral plane together, but it certainly wasn't this. Sawdust whips through the night sky, burning to ash in the flaming sconces lining the large circular training ring. Lightning flicks around us as Lancelot - Nick - steps towards Bree in the center of the storm. I am less shocked that we look like Lancelot and Merlin, and more shocked at the absolute vision that is Bree whipping a replica of my own chain scythe through the air with laughter dancing across her face. She looks...powerful. Proud. Strong. 

Normally, I am quick to action in moments when lethal weapons are aimed at my head, but seeing Bree unencumbered by fear and fully in control of her power momentarily stuns me. She is stunning. And absolutely lethal right now. I can only grin with pride. Briana glares at my amusement. She probably thinks Merlin is taunting her, because she only furrows her brow and concentrates harder. It’s hot as fu-

"Surround her!" Nick shouts.

Right. Focus.

We split. Nick calling out for her to stand down. Telling her we're safe, that we should talk. That we'll die here if she doesn't stop. All true. All completely ineffective. I sigh internally. I recognize the glint in her eye. That stubborn you-can't-tell-me-what-to-do scowl hardening by the second. Of course, Briana ignores him and only spins the chain faster.

Her strength and control are impressive. The demonic side of me strains against my skin, itching to dance in the chaos with her. She is beautiful this way, unleashed and fierce. But Nick does have a point, and as lightning continues to flash brighter and closer, I am reminded that there is true danger here - for all of us. Also, Nick really needs to stop yelling. At this point, the only thing he's succeeding at is throwing out his vocal chords. 

Maybe I can draw her out with a few memorable constructs. 

A frustrated growl leaves my lips as I drop to the ground with a flaming blue fist. Bree might be strong right now, but her focus has never been a strong suit. I conjure 6 hounds to surround her, hoping she'll falter enough for Nick or myself to subdue her. 

“Coward,” she whispers. “Sending creatures as fodder.”

I scoff a laugh. Oh, this is fun! 

"What the hell, Sel?!" Nick is at my side, pulling me back from the hounds. "This isn't a game!"

"No shit, Shirlock - "

"We need to calm her down, not rile her up!"

"We just need to distract her, get her to loose focus - "

Nick stops bothering to listen and looks over at Bree with a mixture of concern and awe and I nearly fall to my knees at the scene before us.

My hounds are gone - sliced into shining bits and pieces. Bree has never been that precise in physical combat, let alone while waving around magical objects. She notices the shock on our faces, because her grin becomes fiendish, and I am momentarily happy that she is proud of herself. She should be. 

The red scales and aether armor along her body shimmer in the air, not to dissipate, but rather to shift. 

"Shit..." Nick mutters under his breath.

"Stop! Bree!"

She steps closer, glowing even brighter, her eyes lazer-focused with determination. We step back when a thunderclap overhead shakes the training ring and the sky flashes bright with lightning. I am stunned by the display, and frankly, a little unsure how to reach her. Normally, her power consumes her so strongly that it literally burns her. Now, it's a furnace at her command. Although she seems controlled here, I wonder whether she's improved at calling it off. That piece of control, or lack of it, seems amplified here. We need to find a way to cool her down.

Another bolt of lightning blasts Nick and me off our feet and flying in opposite directions. Briana advances fast enough that there is no time to share my revelation with Nick. Before he can lift a blade and I can raise another hound, Briana lets the chain scythe melt back into flames. Again, the scales and armor on her body brighten and shimmer, and this time, they begin to shift, puzzle pieces re-arranging and multiplying, her form broadening and growing into the most magnificent sight. 

Wings, red, leathery, massive, claw-tipped wings burst into my vision and block out the stars in the night sky. In an instant, they are spread wide across the arena and whip up a cloud of sawdust into our eyes as she launches into the air.

So cool. But also, shit. 

I call aether from the air, willing thunder to clap and lightning to strike close enough to push her back towards the ground. Quickly, faster than I thought possible, she dips to the side and away from my first rund of strikes...right into the second round I had already called a second after. 

“Dammit Sel, be careful!” Nick calls as he scrambles to his feet. 

I don’t bother with a reply. It’s not like I knew she’d be that fast and dive right into my intended path. And it’s not like I’m the only one calling lighting either. This plane is unstable in a way that tells me we shouldn’t be here much longer. But Briana dances through the sky with a freedom I haven’t seen since the quarry rippling off her muscles and I can’t help but think that we really need to come back here to play some day. 

Lightning splits the sky in three places at once. The patch of trees closest to the castle goes up in flames. The fire jumps and spreads. Soon the whole forest will be ablaze.

Nick is beside himself with anxiety, though he’s trying his best not to show it. I can smell his sweat and determination through the haze of dust, fire, aether, and electricity and I’m sure I’m no less potent. This world is falling apart. We really need to get out of here. Like 10 minutes ago.

“Come down!” Nick yells. The desperation in his voice mimics my internal screaming, though I refuse to show it. Kingsmage and all that. Gotta keep my cool.

“What do you care?” she shouts back. “You just want to kill me.”

Oh, hell no.

“Not true, mystery girl!” Not fucking true. At. All. There are plenty of things I want to do with her right now that are very unrelated to death…unless you count dying in the midst of those activities. That would be a pretty solid way to go, if you ask me. 

Briana’s eyes flutter at the use of my nickname for her and I realize that I did that. It was me, not Nick - 

The wind whips around us like a hurricane and Briana falters in the air. My stomach lurches and I run through every construct in my arsenal to figure out how to soften her fall if it happens again. 

“Bree, please!” Nick yells, and he just barely dodges another lightning strike at his feet.

Briana pauses, flying in place. Nick can’t see her face clearly from this far away, but I can. She looks…pained. Like our presence here is too good to be true. But I also see that look shift to her defiant you-can’t-trick-me face as she stares at Nick in Lancelot’s form and I stifle a sigh.

“No,” she shakes her head. “This is the dream. This is what trapped Arthur… rewarding him if he believed, punishing him if he questioned….”

“Do you remember what I said to you?” I call to her. “That you are the most stubborn creature I have ever met.”

My cariad.

“You didn’t say that to me…,” I hear her whisper over the wind as her stubborn ass realizes that I did, in fact, say that to her. She drifts steadily closer to the earth in her uncertainty, seemingly without realizing it. Good.

Quickly, Nick shoots a silver cord up to wrap itself around her ankle - and yanks. “No!” she shouts, but her wings are dematerializing without her focus. They flap against the aether rope pulling her further downward, and lose strength with every wingbeat, the construct losing structure until it is flame and fire with no substance.

A final, hard pull brings her crashing to the ground, but before she can recover, Nick’s aether-reinforced arms wrap themselves around her chest and pull her tight against his still-solid Lancelot armor. “It’s me - ”

He could have been a little gentler. I had a mattress construct ready if he had just given a little more warning. I toss a glare at Nick that he doesn’t notice. 

Briana screams - and her root flares outward and up. Nick ducks his head - helm and all - against his shoulder and waits it out.

But there is no limit to her root. She sends more flames out in waves, and more still, but every time they burn his armor away, he recasts it and pulls her tighter.

She lies panting in his grip, red flames surrounding them. He does not let go, and she does not stop. Welp, here goes. Time for an experiment.

I kneel before them, one open hand hovering a foot away, and pull. Normally, I would be disappointed in Briana’s lack of focus during a fight, especially if it’s with Nick. But now, I am grateful. It takes more effort than expected to siphon some of her power towards me. I collect a swirling ball of her red root into my palm and it’s just enough that her flames weaken, briefly. But she sends them roaring back to life—and aims them straight at me this time.

Without a second thought, I absorb the rush of power into my body instead of my hand and - fuuuck if it isn’t like gulping down the world’s coldest, crispest water on a hot dry day. I can’t help the shudder that wracks my body, exposing my fangs unexpectedly. Her power tastes like the expensive wine Nick and I used to steal from his dad’s private stash….but way better. Instantly, I am light, I am hot, I am cold, I am euphoric.

I blink through the haze. We know what will happen if I consume too much and I can feel the classic signs of power intoxication flowing through my veins. Her power…I can’t explain it. It’s a well without a bottom. A furnace with a never-ending supply of fuel. I realize that I need to take more.

“Nicholas,” I grunt. “It’s not enough. She’s… too strong; she doesn’t believe we’re real. She’ll kill us in here if she gets free.”

At my ear, Nick looks up. I see him glance at my exposed fangs, my still golden eyes. “And they’ll kill her out there if we can’t bring her back! Try again!”

I raise both palms, taking in double the amount of her aether than before, sucking it nearly as quickly as she creates it, just like a hellfox would. I can immediately tell it doesn’t help. It’s like gulping from a firehose. There are no dregs, no tendrils of an ending.

“Still not enough.” I grind my teeth together, shaking my head. My Bree. So fierce and powerful and strong. Of course she would defy all known limits of power.

“Keep trying!”

No shit. I barely suppress rolling my eyes. God I can’t stand Nick sometimes. “You know what I have to do.”

“No!” Nick’s helmet is gone now. I can see the scruff on his chin now, the dark blond hair matted in sweat against his forehead. “I can’t lose you; I won’t lose her….”

Just that first taste of her power was life-changing. I will spend years, if not my entire lifetime, ignoring the craving for more. And here we are, with a seemingly never-ending supply in front of me and a very real need to consume it as fast as possible. I know what will happen if I consume too much, and even though Nick would never admit to it, I know that my descent would have happened anyways. If I survive Camlann and the others don’t…if Nick survives but doesn’t make it through Abatement…hell, if we can’t get Briana out of this hellscape and she’s stuck in this purgatory forever… It doesn’t matter how it happens, just that we all know it will eventually. Just like my mother. There is no avoiding the inevitable and I will gladly drown in Briana’s magnificence if it gives them all a chance at survival. 

“You’ll lose us both if you don’t let me try,” I murmur.

I meet Nick’s eyes over Bree. He is worried, and I can admit that I am a little bit too. I had hoped for a slower descent, but this is right. I pledged a blood-binding oath to Nick, and even though Briana rejected my proposal to be her Kingsmage, this is as much of an oath I can give despite it. They deserve happiness. She deserves to live. I will take this step with intent. So, I push every bit of care in my heart and through my eyes towards Nick. 

Nick’s voice is tight when he finally answers. “Do it.”

I release my gaze from Nick and crawl closer to Briana on my hands and knees. I would never crawl for anyone else. But for her? Anything. “Just know, Briana Matthews,” I murmur, “that you are worth this and more.”

Without a second’s hesitation, I pull her close enough that we nearly kiss, but now is not the time for that. Briefly, I wish we had more time for it…and then I inhale her power into my body. Devour it whole in shuddering gasps until I am full of nothing but her. I am surrounded by her presence. Drowning in her power. And it’s burning bliss. 

Her wings shrink and turn to smoke. My fangs harden and elongate past my lips. 

Her armor melts, then sparks, then turns to dust. My vision blurs and turns red as my veins turn dark across my skin. 

Her gauntlets shatter into shimmering pieces. My fingers elongate and I adjust so that my claws don’t break her skin. 

And all of it - all of it - flows up and into my mouth, my heart, my soul, draining her root with every ounce of willpower that I have. An oath. To take every bit of pain. To take every bit of danger. To consume all she has to give only so she can thrive. I will gladly become a monster if it means this beauty of a human can survive.

I consume faster than ever before - even faster than the chugging competitions I occasionally indulge in while not on duty. That is child’s play with cheap, nasty college-kid liquor. This….this is heaven and hell. An amber wine so smooth I wonder if I can ever drink water again. A knife so sharp it’s a wonder I’m not already split in two. With every breath, I draw more deeply on her root. And with each breath, I am lost. A devil with no possibility for redemption. 

No, not lost. Not yet. There is time for that, as we all know. But not now. Now is for Briana. Focus. I must focus on her safety. 

Finally, the well is dry and I push through the intoxicating jungle juice of root and aether flooding my senses to make sure she’s ok. 

Nick grasps her face in both palms and pulls her face away from mine. I don’t trust myself to move. He holds her tight. “Come back, Bree. Come back to us.”

Bree’s heart stutters as she tries to pull on her root and feels it missing. Her voice is full of disbelief and despair, and my guilt flares. I took it from her. I did that. I took her power, the source of her pride, the source of her safety. “No…” she shakes her head.

“Please.” I beg, fighting through the mind-bending fog of root. Please, Forgive me. “Come back to us.”

“This isn’t real,” She whispers. “It can’t be. If this is real…”

Her brow furrows and her heart rate skyrockets. Her eyes bounce between my carefully blank face and Nick’s pleading eyes.

“Oh God,” she gasps. “It’s… it’s real.”

The world cracks open and thunder shakes the earth beneath us. Smoke from the trees fills the air, clogs our noses, clouds our vision. The world goes dark. In the distance, trees on fire pop and break, falling into themselves.

Briana’s face falters when she sees me. Her agony, guilt, fear, and…affection swirl around her in a cloud that I can actually see. Immediately, I cut off my breathing before I can smell it. I’m drunk, but not so yet consumed that I’ve forgotten what’s going to happen. Once I smell those chaotic emotions, I’ll be pushed over the edge of sanity, which we cannot afford right now.

And shit if she isn’t the most beautiful young woman on this earth right now, too. I am practically vibrating with pent up energy, and it’s hardening parts of my body that have no business being stiff right now. I shove away from her and Nick, scrambling back into the smoke before she can see any more of my turmoil and put some distance between us.

Briana shifts forward and Nick releases her, holding a warm hand against her back. Of course, he can touch her without fear of hurting her. Without fear of her jerking away in repulsion. She turns to him, sees his familiar face, the dimples, and the worn blue eyes shining through the fading image of Lancelot. 

“Hey, B.” Nick croons. 

At least I could give them this.

“You…” Even through the haze of smoke I can see how her lower lip trembles. “He…”

Nick follows her gaze to my silhouette through the darkness. “I know. We need to get him out of here.”

Yes, you really, really do. Although...maybe it's safer if I'm stuck here. Safer for them. For her.

Briana stares in my direction, emotions flitting across her face so fast that I struggle to read them. Her gaze is searing, sharp. An unavoidable prick of awareness straight through the walls I am carefully holding in place. She said she could feel my gaze, a truth I secretly loved. If anything good comes from this transformation, I hope that it’s the ability for me to always feel her gaze on me too. I really am such a selfish creature.

But if I’m being honest with myself, feeling her piercing gaze probably won't last last. I must only feel it right now because every cell in my body belongs to her, and those cells are rioting in protest at being kept away from their rightful owner. Right now, everything that I am is hers, but it will fade with time. I won’t just want Bree, I’ll want anyone who brings chaos and tasty emotions. It is inevitable. 

Nick squeezes Briana’s shoulder, pulling her attention away from me. “Don’t suppose you know how to get home?” In the distance a burning tree falls, sending a rush of flames to the sky. “And quickly?”

“I don’t even know how you got here in the first place,” she reminds him.

“A long story.” He grasps her hand. “But we need you now. How do we leave?”

“I…” she squints, pulling her thoughts together. I love watching her mind puzzle through a challenge. “Merlin didn’t build this place for someone to leave voluntarily. It’s a place for Arthur to wait until he’s Called.”

“But how did he switch places with you?”

“He didn’t,” she whispers. “I - I let him. I accepted his offer to live through me.”

What the hell? The edges of Nick’s mouth turn down. And honestly, same. She willingly gave him control? This girl. This impulsive, heart-on-her-sleeve girl recklessly handed herself over to an ancient ghost in her brain? If I wasn’t extremely drunk on her power and using every ounce of self-control available to keep myself in check, I’d call her out right fucking now. Redness clouds my gaze - .

Another tree cracks to the ground.

“You accepted Arthur to get here,” Nick says slowly, recovering from the shock faster than I can. “so what is the opposite of acceptance?”

Bree’s brows relax as she comes to the same realization. She pushes to standing on trembling feet and Nick helps her rise. A knight with his king. A young man and an absolutely luscious girl. Her curves are exquisite, muscles flush from the fight and hair wild from the wind. I can’t help but moan when I look at her. Hopefully they think it’s from muscle soreness as I, too, push to standing.

“I…,” Bree whispers to the dream, “I reject my title as Scion of Arthur.”

Shock freezes me in place. Beside her, Nick sucks in a breath.

“I will not rise to dispel the shadows,” she murmurs.

The dream fire dims, grows still. The world darkens. Slowly, I walk towards them through the gloom.

Then, the figure of Arthur appears. The look in his eyes is of pure rage - multiplied when he sees Nick. “You.”

Seems like dream-Arthur is still pissed about Nick besting him in the real world. I smile with amusement. Nick raises his chin defiantly, eyes like flint. “Yes. Me.”

At no one’s surprise but Arthur’s, Briana steps in front of Nick to face Arthur eye to eye.

“I will no longer take as my own the weight of the blood of the world -”

Hell yeah, you tell him. Be free. 

Arthur’s image grows solid, dimming while our bodies begin to brighten. “Stop -”

She looks up at Nick who takes her hand while I move from the shadows to join them. I am barely hanging on to sanity as my now-glowing fingers grasp Briana’s arm. My body feels light and heavy all at once. Over-stimulated and numb. I still haven’t taken a breath and know I can’t hold out much longer. 

Briana’s muscles tense in determination as she rejects her inheritance with every ounce of confidence in her body. As she takes a step into the unknown while my own the world fades to black, I can only remind myself: my sweetheart, my darling, my beloved, my love…my cariad. You are worth this, and so much more.

Chapter Text

“How is he?” 

“Stable. In and out of sleep. The amount of root he consumed….I can only wonder how he’s still alive.”

“It was” Nick pauses “...a lot. Is there anything you can do?”

William sighs with a surprising amount of patience. If I wasn’t heavy with exhaustion, I’d roll my eyes on his behalf. Everyone knows the Scion of Gawain cannot heal Merlins the way he can heal everyone else. “You know I can’t give him anything, only monitor and assist with surface-level physical ailments. He is not injured, though. Just…you know…changed.”

No sense in sugar-coating it Will-i-am. I’m a full blown demon now, buddy. 

A third voice. “He’s awake. Let’s give him a few minutes. See if he falls back asleep.” Larkin.

Nick and Will’s heartbeats slightly increase in pace with that knowledge. Interesting.

Despite the paralyzing weight of sleep pressing on my body, I can still sense my surroundings. 

Nick. Larkin. William. Greer. Gillian. Their scents linger like they’ve been in this room recently. Must mean I’ve been here at least a day. William’s scent is the strongest, which makes sense as he's likely been tending to me. Nick’s is a close second, while the others are mere wisps of essence. Something is missing, but I can’t put my finger on it yet.

The room is cold. I’m laying shirtless in only my briefs in a position resembling a freaking corpse. I guess technically I'm more dead than not now. Light blankets, a soft pillow. William must have done this knowing that I run hot and need good neck support for my always-tight shoulder muscles. Of course he would. Something isn't right, though. I want something warmer, softer. Squishier, almost. But I can’t put my finger on what. Not telling William that. He’ll think I want a stuffed toy, for all my luck. Ugh.

I force my eyes open, expecting to break a seal of crust for how long I feel I’ve been out. But good ol’ boy William seems to have washed me since the fight and oiled my eyes and lips to prevent dehydration. I grimace at the thought. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s that…he’s not the one I want doing that. My mother has been gone so long from my life that it’s not her I crave. There’s someone on the fringes of my mind who I would delight in caring for my body - conscious or not. But my brain feels like it’s slogging through mud and I can't figure out who it is. I close my eyes and breathe. I cannot wait for my brain to catch up.

“It’s been 5 minutes” Nick impatiently prods. “Is he still awake?”

“Actually, yes.” Lark sounds surprised. 

Now I actually do open my eyes just for the satisfaction of rolling them. Willaim told you I would be waking up about now. Idiots. 

Nick announces his entrance about 0.2 seconds before entering. “Sel, I’m coming in.”

I hardly recognize that I’m in the guest house instead of the main house when Nick enters the room with all the grace of the king he expected to become. Stubble cleanly shaven, hair nicely trimmed. Shoulders back with confidence and deep blue eyes blazing. He really is handsome. I feel no shame or regret for my former crush on him. Everyone has one for him at some point. If only - 

Briana.

I blur up from the bed and into Nick’s space before he has a chance to blink. His familiar scent of laundered clothes and fresh cedar on a crisp day is there, yes, but it’s mixed with the most mouthwatering combination of wine, green things, copper, and power. Nick doesn’t flinch at my quick arrival. Instead, he grabs my forearms and sighs, as if to embrace me in relief. 

But no. That smell. Briana. I suck in a breath of that life-giving scent that’s all over him and my vision shifts to red. Where is she?

I must have spoken out loud, because Larkin blurs to my side and tosses me off of Nick before I can take another breath. I feel my pupils widen as I lock in my target. Larkin. How dare he. Obviously I’m not about to harm Nick. My oath won’t allow it. Fucking prick. He wants drama? I can bring drama. I crouch into a fighting stance within his hold, readying for a twist.

“Everyone out! Now!” Larkin barks as hits me over the head with a table lamp - much harder than necessary.

—

In times of uncertainty, and in times of dire need for problem-solving, I first assess the facts. The facts, so far, are this: I have been locked in this godforsaken guest house for 48 hours. I was “out cold” as William so graciously put it for 24 hours and another 2 hours after that prick Larkin knocked me out. Jerk. So. 26 hours unconscious. Which means 22 hours of trying to figure out how the hell I can get to Briana. Unfortunately, I don’t have my powers back yet. I can feel them simmering in my gut, but I can’t call them. Not yet.

Briana has not yet visited me and I am, quite frankly, pissed. Not at her. She does not owe me a visit and I certainly don’t want to see or smell or taste her guilt for my current state. I chose this willingly and I would choose it again. I’m mostly pissed off at Nick and William. They keep saying “she’s ok, don’t worry” with zero proof. I can’t even smell her essence on Nick now that he stays on the other side of the door. Just give me fucking something other than mediocre placations. I do not appreciate being coddled.

She is my king, goddammit! I should be with her. I want to be with her. In fact, threads of want have buried themselves into my bones so strongly I might explode. They’ve burrowed and expanded like roots through my veins. Bloomed into vice-grip irons in my head and my heart. My oath to Nick is still there, but buried and compressed beneath the weight of my desire for her. I want to smell her, lick her, dive into her skin, and mold myself into whatever she needs, whatever she wants. We are inevitable. SO WHY am I still being kept away from her in this FUCKING room??

Usually, when I inspect the wards maintained by Scions, I find holes weak enough to physically punch through them and I have to reinforce them myself. Unfortunately, my handlers appear to have anticipated that and worked hard while I was out. I’ve already destroyed everything but the bed in this stupid fucking cell of a room trying to punch a hole, but to no avail. I threw truly epic amounts of rage at the door and cursed out Nicholas for locking me up. I cannot protect him or Briana from here. Of all people, he should know how important this is. How strong this pull is. Half of my heart is somewhere on this goddamn estate and I need it whole. The other half of my heart slams against my chest at pace proclaiming my frustration stronger than a base drum.

I want to be her slave, I want to be her master.

I want to hear her heartbeat run like rollercoasters

I wanna be a good boy, I wanna be a gangster

'Cause she is the beauty and I am the monster

I love her since this morning, not just for aesthetic

I wanna touch her body, so fucking electric

I know she’s scared of me, they say I'm too eccentric

I'm not crying any tears ‘cause that's fucking pathetic

I wanna make her hungry, then I wanna feed her

I wanna paint her face ‘cause she’s my Mona Lisa

I wanna be a champion, I wanna be a loser

I'll even be a clown 'cause I just wanna amuse her

I wanna be her sex toy, I wanna be her teacher

I wanna be her sin, I wanna be her preacher

I wanna make her love me, and I’ll never leave her

The chant is constant in my blood. As vast and depthless as the ever-ending well of power I now have access to but still cannot use. And I never want it to stop. 

Tap. Tap-Tap. Tap.

“Sel, it’s me” William speaks calmly through the door. “You need to eat.”

I will eat when I get some semblance of proof that Briana is not only alive and well, but emotionally whole.

“Silent treatment. Got it. I need you to know that what I’m about to do involves something you won’t like.”

If I could shoot lasers out of my eyes and blast out that door, you wouldn’t like that. It would be pretty cool though.

William continues. “I really hate this, but it’s for everyone’s safety until you’re more stable. We need to get you food. I suggest you sit down.”

No thank you. You’ve already locked me up. You can’t order me around too.

His shadow looms larger and more solid near the bottom of the door, blocking out the light from the hallway. What’s he going to do? Shove a poorly made PB&J through a 1 inch crack on the floor? Gross.

To my surprise, silvery blue aether creeps under the door, carrying Willam’s scent of citrus mixed with…oxygen? I can practically feel my pupils dilate with excitement for the unknown. Sitterson's magic is usually like mercury, but this is thicker. Like a dense fog on a dewy morning. Luckily, Larkin isn’t around 24/7 to constantly alert them to my awareness levels, so I’ve heard plenty of muttered conversations between William and Nick through the door. But this isn't something I've heard about it.

I know they’ve told Briana that it’s not safe to be near me right now, to prevent her from even coming near the guesthouse, let alone inside of it. Fools. I would never hurt her. 

I know that William is concerned about my lack of sustenance and my comfort, since I managed to lose my visitor privileges and destroy all furniture faster than expected. There is only one form of sustenance and comfort that I need right now, and it’s Briana’s face within my line of sight. 

I know that they’re worried their wards and shields won’t hold me for much longer, since their wards must always be maintained by an active caster and resources are thin. I can wait them out.

I know that the energy under my skin and the seemingly endless well of power in my veins is more than I ever expected to feel at this point. I will investigate my inability to use it after I see Briana.

But this aether seeping through the door is…new. The smell, the color, the wispy tendrils of movement are unfamiliar. It’s not that it smells bad or even appears unappetizing. My new demon side wants this like I want an ice cold Coke in August. It’s not a question whether I will consume it. It’s only a matter of why William thinks I won’t like it. He probably concocted some weird aether-based food shit that he knows I can’t resist and will sustain me until solid food can be provided. 

My nostrils flare at the aether buffet now pouring into the room and winding around my body. It only takes a few seconds for me to notice that I can’t move my legs, and another few seconds to realize why he wanted me sitting down.

“What the FUCK, William?” The ire I intended to hurl at him loses its punch when a smile spreads across my face. My shoulders and head drop back and I laugh in the swirling fog. “What a trick! I do love surprises!”

I hear Nick blow out a breath, it almost sounds amused. Apparently I had an audience? Happy to entertain, I guess. 

William responds through the door at my lack of protests. “It’s an aether-based Nitrous Oxide. It will knock you out when we’re done talking. We just need you to rest a little longer. We also need a moment to replace your furniture and drop in some food.”

A chuckle escapes me as I realize what he’s done. I'm now high and aether drunk and I can’t deny that the demon in me marvels at the creativity. What a checkmate. “Clever! I gotta hand it to you, William. I’m impressed.”

I swear I can see William’s self-deprecating huff of a laugh. I know that he knows patients hate the vulnerability that comes with being unconscious and he doesn’t like to take that agency away from them. But I also know this solution really is the only way for them to get what they want. I have no intention of idly sitting by while they play maid in my cell, so this really is their only option. Genius, really.

“I told you to sit down. Don’t worry, I’ll handle the bruising as best I can so you’re not sore when you wake up.” 

William’s aether holds me steady for a moment longer. I can feel him controlling its potency, titrating it up to knock me out slowly. At least he warned me.

A cough from Nick. “Please don’t destroy the new furniture. I fought hard to get you some new things.” Time for another eye roll. I swear, my eyes will get stuck backwards at this rate. “Not sure I’ll be able to get you more.”

“I wouldn’t dream of destroying this compound’s furniture..” I trail off, waiting…

“Thank - “

“If you let me at least hear Briana’s voice when I wake up. I’ll give you 10 minutes to bring her to me when I awake.”

Nick growls through the door at my negotiation. “Sel. We’ve been over this. No one knows what that much root does to a Merlin. It’s unheard of. Bree is more than OK. She survived because of you.” His voice grows softer. “She’s worried about you. We all are. Please focus on healing yourself first.”

I have to laugh at that. I hear his unspoken words. Focus on myself so that I don’t harm Briana, because I’m a demon. A monster with an insatiable appetite for a girl with limitless power. But what he doesn’t understand is I am limitless now. I can feel it. I don’t need her power, just her presence. She calls to me on a level that Nick might think he understands, but truly does not. Hearing her, seeing her, knowing she’s ok. That is what will heal me.

Before I can respond with words, William chimes in. “Sel, he’s right. You’re being stubborn. Eat. Sleep. We’ll talk about Briana after that.”

“You could at least make sure the food includes a piece of chocolate cake.”

“Whatever you say, Kingsmage.”

And then the world is black. Again.

—

They did not include chocolate cake. Instead, they brought Bojangles. Greasy, fried, and everything Briana loves when she needs comfort. Absolutely not health food. I appreciate the gesture, though. Maybe it was her idea. That thought alone is what spurs me to open the bag.

I manage to get down the fried chicken and water, but I can’t bring myself to finish off the biscuit. I am aware that succumbing into a demon means Briana will probably run away in fear and be revolted by my appearance, but no matter. She is mine and I am hers. I will care for her until we are ash in the wind. And I cannot do that with clogged arteries.

A hum fills the air and shadows darken the room like a storm. I spin to find the source, but two hands grasp my shoulders and pull me into a swirling vortex of darkness. Hardly a blink later, and we’re…outside? On a hill?

I struggle to remove myself from the grip, but - 

That scent. Briana. Briana is here. I close my eyes and lift my nose to the sky to better find her scent in the still night air. It’s easier than peering through the darkness after being in light for so long.

Got you.

Briana’s face freezes as she takes me in. So many emotions flitting through her brain like butterflies in a garden. I can see them surrounding her like a cloud. Shock, probably at my eyes. Longing. Guilt. Fear. Relief. 

Her scent invades my nose. Quickly, I take stock of her health. Strong heartbeat. Normal scents. Direct eye contact. Power simmering underneath her skin. My muscles constrict and melt all at once. I register, then, that the agony on her face is not for herself. It’s for me. Suddenly, I go from alert and wary, to so euphoric that I struggle to hold back a smile, exposing my newly elongated black-tipped fangs. She is concerned...for me.

“Your anguish…,” I hum, voice low and hungry, “is wrapped around your very heart.”

Before she can react, I dart forward, reaching for her and her pain - just as I did in Valec’s office. I want to take it away. If I can just breathe it in, take it into me, I can alleviate her hurt. Erebus catches me before I can reach her. What is he even doing here?

“Selwyn senses your misery,” he mutters impatiently. “That is all you are to him now.”

No. Yes. But no. I sense her misery, but that is not all she is to me. I want to take away her pain. I’m not feeding. Not…really. 

Tears blur Bree’s vision at those words. She takes them as truth and I am stunned into silence. Stunned that she could believe so little of me so quickly.

Mystery Girl. Scion. Cariad. King. You are everything to me. She should be thriving. Why is Erebus here? Why does she believe him? 

“Make haste,” Erebus insists, ear tilted toward the Keep. “Nicholas has noticed he is gone.”

“Heartache.” My eyes drink her in, my longing a low simmer. “And so, so much guilt….”

She must know that I see her. 

She tentatively steps closer. “Sel, you’ve saved me over and over again. Now let me try to help you.”

I tilt my head and finally register that it’s Erebus holding me. Erebus whom Briana looks at with trust. Erebus will lock me away the same way he did my mother.

There is a new scent I recognize now as rage consumes my thoughts. The scent of a bargain between them. Did she...did she turn me over to Erebus? As punishment?

“What have you done?” My voice is a harsher snarl than I expect it to be. 

Erebus’s hands wrap around my shoulders. I try to jerk him off, but we are whisked away from Briana in a blink. In those brief moments of twisting darkness, I fight Erebus with every ounce of force I have. I fight to get back to my king, my love. I fight to whatever this misjudgment is. I fight to be free from false accusations. But before Erebus takes away my consciousness for the third time in the last 3 days, I realize a truth that damns me to hell. 

I am the reason my heart, my king, the most beautiful girl I know, lost her spark in the dream-world. I took everything that made her powerful and confident, and removed it against her will. I loved every second of it, and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me.

Chapter Text

I’ve been knocked out enough times to know the difference between various forms of incapacitation. Sometimes, all you do is blink and one minute you're falling on the battlefield to being on a medical table with Willaim Sitterson hovering over your body and Nick Davis slouching in the doorway. Sometimes, it’s a slow fall into blackness, while words and thoughts mix into incoherent nonsense and become crazy dreams that you hardly remember when you wake up. And sometimes, you’re stuck in a dark purgatory of nothingness - frozen to wherever you are and unable to respond to the drabble of speech as humans worry by your bedside. 

Lately, I’ve been experiencing the quick blink of blackness where there is nothing between your downfall and your rise. But for the past 2 days, two agonizing days, I have had to listen to a strange woman cycle through the 5 stages of grief like she’s preparing to lower my body into the ground any minute. 

Who this woman is, I have no idea. When I realized that Briana handed me over to Erebus like the criminal I am, I assumed he would toss me into a cold cell with no windows. A place with no comfortable bed, television, connection to the outside world, or really anything remarkable. I did not think I would be dropped into a musty old cabin that smells vaguely familiar with a woman who sounds like she’s trying to replicate Noah’s ark with her sobbing. Maybe this is Erebus’s form of a joke? Or a strange form of torture? Give me the smallest taste of Briana, knock me into this weird coma state with my whole body aching for her, then make me listen to a crazy woman with delicious emotions I can’t consume for some odd reason, and keep me here indefinitely. I guess if I am in full demonia now, it doesn’t really matter. I’m damned no matter what. I have no choice in this - Briana made sure of that - and if it was her wish for this to be my fate, then so be it. 

I chose to consume the power of Arthur, the root of my cariad, the trust of my friend. I did it knowing that my actions to save the one I love would carry me away from her with no traceable path back. Being away from her, however it occurred, is agony. But, if Briana chose this path for me, out of anger, fear, or…I don’t even know what else…then I will accept it. I just wish I could be anywhere other than Erebus’s-creepy-experiment-limbo. 

The first 24 hours were rather repetitive. She muttered “oh my God, please let him be ok” so many times that it’s a wonder the man himself didn’t shoot down from the sky just to make her stop. She hovered and gently wondered “Is this real?” to the point where I was internally screaming “YES, now go away, dammit!”. She called out for Erebus a lot, demanding to know what was going on - but alas - he did not return either. A little disappointing, as I’d like answers to that myself. 

It’s one thing to lock me up in a boring room and throw away the key. It’s another thing entirely to lock me up in my own body. Rude. If I had control of my hands then I could at least spend my time indulging in fantasies of Briana’s smooth curves and blinding smile. I love the way her heartbeat picks up when she feels my gaze and the way she shivers when I come close. The way she kissed me at Volition nearly undid me, and I wish now that I hadn’t put a stop to it.

But no. I get to lay here listening to a crazy woman. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Thankfully, there is apparently a limit to the amount of patience that a demon brain has for gut-wrenching emotions it can’t feed on, because it shut down and drifted me off to a much better place. 

“Well,” she says, biting her lip. “Maybe it’s not enough for me.”

Before I can respond, she pulls my head down and presses her mouth to my lips with a surprising amount of strength. Thankfully, my body catches up quickly and I go pliant at her touch. A shudder works its way through my body and I wonder if this is how Bree feels when I look at her, a flash of heat that warms my already warm blood. I can’t stop myself, then. My  palm wraps around the nape of her neck, and all I can do is devour her. The demon in me roars to the surface, urging me to take what’s mine. I find her hip and yank her closer, just once - a pulse between us, a shared demand. The wanton huff of breath she makes as she wraps her arm around my neck has me pushing her up against the nearest tree in the next heartbeat. Bark digs into my hand, cradling her head from the impact. Her mouth surges into mine, hot and needy, and the demon in me roars to life.

I am aware that Briana is inexperienced. I am only a few years older, but I’ve had my fair share of sexual exploration at this point. The average human teenage boy significantly underestimates the value of a sun tan, weightlifting, and clothing that does not involve cargo shorts or athletic-wear. Pair that with the natural draw of my incubus nature, and my raging teenage hormones were able to be satiated quite easily. Nicholas is experienced as well - a Kingsmage is never too far away from his charge, after all - but the sounds I elicit from my partners are notably louder and more emphatic than his. I can’t wait to hear the sounds Bree will make with me.

The fireflies would have been a “good enough” gift for Bree tonight, but it’s her birthday, and I have an even better gift in mind now that she’s initiated physical contact. I tighten my grip on her waist, pressing gently into the soft space in front of her hipbone with my thumb and wind my fingers into her curls. With a swift tug, her warm neck is exposed and I’m running my nose just underneath her ear while running light circles at the top of her spine with my fingers. Goosebumps erupt over her skin and shivers wrack her body, which I soothe with a heated lick from her collarbone to her jaw.

“Shit” she whimpers in my arms and I half wonder if she’s about to faint. She must be soaking already. She is panting into my hair, her chest rising and falling into my own like she’s running a marathon. Her body temperature is flaming and I want to stoke that fire higher. The arm she wound around my neck earlier slides back for her hand to find my hair as well, while her other hand claws a fistful of my shirt hard enough that I hope she rips it. She’s definitely about to faint. I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face.

But tonight is not about me.  

A light sheen of sweat starts to build along her skin and I chuckle quietly at her desperation. I can make her feel so good and we’ve barely even started yet. I want her screaming obscenities into the night air, clinging to me like I’m her only anchor to the planet. I nudge one leg between her thighs and press up into her center, right where I know she wants pressure the most. I can feel her throbbing through her jeans as she clenches her legs together once again. 

“Fuck…” she groans and I bring my mouth back up to hers to capture the sound. I could do this for days, but she’s new to this and likely won’t last much long-

Suddenly, Briana bites my lower lip just shy of drawing blood and draws it down, while her hands slip seamlessly into my jeans, my briefs and onto my backside. The feeling of her bare hands on my skin have me groaning into her mouth as she yanks my hips harder against hers and winds one leg around me. 

Hell yes. 

I hardly have time to think beyond those two little words before one hand keeps me pressed against her while another finds it way up my shirt. I can’t get enough and heat singes my blood. Insatiable. I love that she’s taking what she wants. I want to teach her, but I also want to learn all of the things she likes. Her pace, her patience, her enthusiasm. Let her explore, use me however she wants and needs. I want it all.

I mimic her movements, bringing my hand on her back further down and squeezing her ass. I’ve wanted to do this for so long. The other finds the skin under her breast and gently skims it. She moans as we simultaneously rock together, devouring everything the other gives like we’re starved of touch. I decide to kick it up a notch, and pull the low cut top and bra down to sit underneath her breasts. They’re already full and peaked from desire, and I love the way the stretch from the fabric lifts them up further. I know she’s sensitive and aching for me to touch them fully…but not yet. Her back is arched in the most delicious way and I want her begging for my touch. Instead, I let my gaze linger there, let the warmth and sparks I know she feels when I look at her touch her in a way that no one else can. 

Bree pulls back and glares at me. She knows I’m teasing her. I’m enthralled by her confidence and the sparkle in her eye that I think tells me she’s about to surprise me. And she does. Before I know it, the hand on my ass swiftly finds its way to the front of my thigh, still inside my jeans. She pauses, surging up to claim my lips once more. I’m frozen with want. And throbbing. I thrust into her hips searching for the friction she’s denying me. She’s bolder than I expected and my brain starts spinning towards possibilities with this knowledge. Then, as a smile blooms across her face once more, she grips my balls, drags her palm up my shaft , takes me fully in her grasp, and surges back down. 

FUCK!

I grab her wrist and pin the offending hand above her head as I lift her fully around my waist. Her peaked nipples are closer now, begging to be sucked. Her core is lined up with my length and we’re grinding together as if we’ve done this our whole lives. I’m biting her neck, impressed with how steady she is with her hips. She is familiar with chasing her high, I realize, and the knowledge makes me dizzy. How did she learn? What is her favorite fantasy? Her pace matches my own desired pace without effort and I’m not so sure I can hold out much longer.

I’m lost in her taste, our sync’d heartbeats, and the grinding of our bodies when I feel her free hand lift her breast directly into my face. I should have known she wouldn’t beg. Demands are much more her style. Glady, I suck and bite while she throws her head back and it’s all I can do to hold on as she loudly moans into the night sky. 

“Harder!” she cries. 

Jesus, she’s more than I could have ever dreamed for. 

I move to her other nipple, bite down, and tug. That was all she needed. It was all either of us needed.

“Sel! Oh my god, Sel!” 

Lightening shoots down my spine and my hips thrust forward as shocks of bliss have her pushing back with equal urgency. We go over the edge together and it’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I can’t even care that I just came in my pants like a goddamn novice. 

We breathe together, huffing laughs and not wanting to let go. Her heart beat is everywhere. In the air, in my lungs, so loud and so fast is like she’s in the room with me. Anticipation and fear wind through the air and…wait. What? I blink…

…and I’m in a strange room. Instantly, I’m up in a defensive crouch scanning the room for threats. Dustmotes float through a beam of light that stretches across a wide planked wooden floor and lands on a rocking chair. A multicolored patchwork quilt wrinkles beneath my feet as I cover my back. The air smells of dust, and a vaguely familiar mixture of nutmeg and brandy. The air is cool and stirred by a gently rotating fan above my head.

A creak comes from the corner near the rocking chair and I freeze as the realization hits me. In the chair, still as a statue with longing pulling at the faint wrinkles in her face, is my mother.